Cymru - Chapter 11

AWEN

The beach was beautiful; deserted except for the Wing, with the sea lapping so calmly at the edge of the sand it could have been a lake. The sun gleamed off it like molten gold, warming Awen gently from head to ankle. The combination of sea and stone beneath her bare feet kept them cold despite the sun. She liked the contrast.

To her left, the rest of the Wing were doing their best to Relax, the merod getting a rare chance to run around themselves. Caradog had found a ball from somewhere: as Awen watched Llyr got hold of it and promptly disappeared under Caradog’s mass as he was tackled violently to the ground. Adara was cantering bareback up the beach towards them, Gwenhwyfar flying easily alongside her. Most of the merod were playing amongst themselves except for Brân, predictably. He had trotted out into the water as far as he could go, and now seemed to be playing the fun game of ‘Look How High I Can Throw The Water With My Wings.’ It made Awen smile.

Taliesin skidded to a halt next to Caradog, who ducked neatly to avoid a carelessly-stretched wing, and Adara hopped neatly off. Gwenhwyfar, unusually, flew in and settled on Awen’s shoulder. That probably meant that Adara was worried about her, Awen supposed. That was fair. Tanwen kept giving her looks as well.

Adara climbed up onto the rock beside Awen and they both watched as Taliesin cantered into the sea to join Brân, who half-bounded half-flew to meet him. Adara laughed.

“I think your meraden is half dog,” she informed Awen. “I think you should check his bloodlines before you breed from him.”

“I just don’t think I should breed from him,” Awen smiled. “We’ll have a whole generation of merod to ride who are utterly idiotic and can barely walk through a stable without breaking both wings and trampling visiting dignitaries.”

“How’s the shoulder?” Adara asked delicately. Awen rolled it slightly.

“Fine,” she said. “I saw a druid this morning. I can take the stitches out tomorrow.” She held up her hand for inspection, showing the much-healed scar across her palm. Adara gave it a critical look and nodded, apparently satisfied with this Foreign Druid’s work.

“It looks better,” she said. “The boy with the bow has woken up at last. The Beta Wing Leader here has done the first bit of questioning but he apparently won’t talk. They can’t torture him yet without Lord Gwilym’s permission, though.”

“Really?” Awen turned to look at Adara, astonished. Gwenhwyfar nearly fell off her shoulder, and squealed in protest. “Why on earth not?”

“It’s some legislation or other that he passed on becoming Sovereign, apparently,” Adara shrugged. “No one’s sure why. I think it’s because he’s a crazy. Did you know, last year alone Casnewydd tortured almost eight hundred people who weren’t actually from the city? Only about twenty were actually guilty, too.”

Awen winced. “Maybe Gwilym has a point.” She considered that. “I want to be there when they question him again.”

Adara looked at the stone they were standing on, suddenly fascinated by the veins in it.

“Awen,” she said quietly. “We can’t stay here. There’s not long left before the Archwiliad, and we have a lot of cities to get through.”

“I know,” Awen nodded. She’d been thinking about this all night, and how best to proceed. She’d finally come to the conclusion, just as the merchants began to move about the city and the sun crept up, that events had gotten just too big for her to ignore and not chase up. Whatever was going on, it had infiltrated the Union, and wires on the Rider Beads she wore were anti-clockwise for a reason. Her responsibilities ran deeper than the others’.

She levelled a measuring look at Adara, making the other girl shift slightly.

“How would you feel about becoming Acting Deputy?” Awen asked, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t carry. Adara stared at her.

“Me?” she said, clearly surprised. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You know how I get irritated. And I’m not the best at talking to Sovereigns, you’re bossier than me.”

“I trust you more than the others,” Awen said, shaking her head. “And I need that right now. Just Acting Deputy, until we can get back to the Union and choose another properly.”

“Why do we need one?” Adara asked suspiciously. “What are you planning?”

“I’m staying here,” Awen said, “to sort this out. And going after Owain, wherever he may be.” Subconsciously she ran her thumb across the scar on her palm, and then stopped herself, realising. Glancing up, she realised that Adara was watching her with the sort of attention Gwenhwyfar usually reserved for small furry mammals.

“I think you need me here,” Adara said seriously. “You can’t do this alone. I’ll hold him down for you, if you like; I suspect he’s a wriggler.”

Awen bit back the frustrated sigh that threatened to undermine the point. She really didn’t want to have to order Adara away.

“Then who do I send?” she asked bluntly. “Caradog’s great, but he has less skill talking to politicians than anyone I’ve ever met, likewise Tanwen. And the only other person I trust right now, awful though that sounds, is Llyr, and he –”

She broke off, considering that. Llyr was a hopeless tactician, but he could certainly handle diplomats if given the chance, and that was all that would really be required of him. Caradog could take over if fighting became necessary.

Awen turned to face the group, ignoring Adara’s slightly smug smile.

“All in,” she called. Instantly, they stopped what they were doing, Caradog dropping Tanwen from where he’d been holding her, still clutching the ball, over his head. She landed like a cat and rolled to her feet in one smooth motion. All eyes fell attentively onto Awen.

“We’re having a slight change of plan,” Awen said, fingering the scar at her neck deliberately this time. “Much though I’d love to declare hunting season on Owain, the Archwiliad isn’t so many days away. Llyr, you’re Acting Deputy until we can get back to the Union.” With Owain’s head, she added silently. Llyr’s jaw fell open; Caradog clapped him merrily on the back, nearly knocking him over. “If you get in any fights, mind, you give over to Caradog. Try not to get in any fights,” Awen added.

“And where are you going?” Llyr asked. He looked worried. Awen glanced briefly at Adara.

“We’re going after Owain,” Awen said levelly. “And, hopefully, to find out what he’s up to.”

There was a pause as eight pairs of eyes clearly expressed what a bad plan they thought that was. Gwenhwyfar shifted on Awen’s shoulder, chirping slightly. A meraden snorted. Awen held Llyr’s gaze until he looked away.

“Leader,” he Saluted. The others followed suit, and Awen managed not to wince. She’d basically just pulled rank on him to stop him protesting; this close after Owain, it wasn’t her brightest move.

“Thank you,” she said softly instead of Saluting back. Llyr gave her a small smile and nodded.

“We’ll saddle up,” he said decisively, moving off toward his meraden. We should reach Milford Haven within the hour; there’s a good wind.”

Awen resumed watching Brân and Taliesin as the flurry of activity swelled around her; merod neighing, harnesses creaking, the merry banter tossed about. Caradog and Tanwen raced each other back to the Sovereign’s Residence to fetch the few possessions the Wing had brought from Casnewydd. Idwel cursed as a strap on his harness broke. Llyr and Adara withdrew to have a muted conversation about Awen’s wellbeing, culminating in Adara promising to keep an eye on her. Awen said nothing, feeling strangely detached from it all. Normally, she’d have been helping out with every task. Today she could only think of Owain. She wondered how you could tell when you became obsessive.

It barely took ten minutes for the Wing to be ready and leaving. Gwenhwyfar flew up with them a little way, just until they disappeared from sight over the cliffs. Awen watched them go until Adara nudged her, pointing to the merod still in the water.

“I think Taliesin just drowned Brân,” she said mildly as Brân’s entire body vanished under the waves, leaving only a wing sticking up to mark where he was. Awen grinned, tearing her eyes off of her receding family. Letting Adara stay had been the right choice.

“Oh well,” Awen shrugged. “Bygones and that. Oh no – he’s back, look.”

Brân leaped out of the water almost under Taliesin’s muzzle, knocking him back and under himself.

“That’s almost a shame,” Awen said. “I could have gotten a shiny new meraden, one that listens to me and displays conscious thought.”

“Whereas now I’ll need to,” Adara said solemnly. “Since your meraden just drowned my meraden.”

“Yes, I can’t apologise enough,” Awen agreed. “He’s such an embarrassment – is that a Rider?”

They both squinted up into the sky at the rapidly enlarging dot circling in from the north. Whoever it was, they were riding hard, judging by the approach. Awen glanced at Brân, wondering if she could get him harnessed up in time to fly up and join in, but decided against it. Extracting him from the water would take too much time.

“Messenger?” Adara asked. “They’re fast, whoever they are.”

“Possibly,” Awen agreed, her mind racing. It wouldn’t be Owain, but barely a week from the Archwiliad would be an unwelcome time for big news under the most normal of circumstances, and with her Wing disintegrating and the political conspiracies flying around Awen couldn’t leave it to chance that the message wasn’t relevant. She had to stay abreast of every piece of news right now. “Come on,” she said, hopping off the rock and grabbing her harness. “We probably need to know what they know. We’ll catch them at the Landing Tower.”

“Like a bug,” Adara agreed, and Awen paused. Adara drew strange comparisons sometimes.